The Magic of the Apron
by freaky-hanyou
Summary: Makoto has a great deal of difficulty resisting swimsuit-and-apron-clad Haru in the kitchen. And that's all I have to say. That's the plot ladies and gents, Oneshot, Makoharu, Smut


Hi there! So technically this is the second of 2 stories that I have to bring to you, but after I finished the first I realized I should probably write this, and lo and behold I finished it before I typed up the first so…it'll just make better sense if I explain after the first is up haha. ANYWAY here's a story with no plot and lots of **smut** (do I date myself if I say it's a lemon? I don't know anymore) so please enjoy.

 **The Magic of the Apron**

Makoto sat at the dining table in the living room watching Haru prepare their lunch at the kitchen counter. Unsurprisingly, he was only wearing his swimsuit underneath his apron.

Almost every day Makoto saw this tantalizing sight. Over the years, he had trained himself to resist the alluring picture that Haru presented in the kitchen. Through his own sheer willpower, there were now times that Makoto could look at Haru's toned back, trim waist, and oh-so-tempting thighs framed by his cooking apron and want nothing more than to enjoy the view. However, there were other times where he couldn't stand to just look…he needed to _touch,_ and he wouldn't be satisfied unless he did. Makoto was _hungry,_ after all.

 _No,_ Makoto thought, gripping the table to physically hold himself down, _don't._ Haru had been really angry the last time Makoto had jumped him in the kitchen, ruining the dinner that he had worked so hard on. Makoto had only gotten Haru to forgive him by swearing that he'd try harder, that he'd respect the food that Haru made. Makoto let out a slow breath, body calming down slightly as he saw some reason.

He stole a glance at Haru, watching him absentmindedly wipe away a few beads of sweat from his neck…a neck that Makoto longed to kiss and lick, tormenting them both with teasing swipes of his tongue until he could bear it no longer and—

 _That's it. I can't take this anymore._

With that thought in mind Makoto got up from the table, drawn to the kitchen by some unseen force. He quietly approached behind Haru, slipping his arms around Haru's waist and tucking them underneath the apron to rest against Haru's abdomen. "Almost done?" Makoto asked innocently, and Haru tilted slightly so he could see him, still keeping his main focus on the food.

"Almost," he replied, not even registering the hardness pressing into his lower back…yet.

"Well then…why don't you take a break?" Makoto offered, lips already pressing those previously-imagined kisses to Haru's neck.

Haru inhaled sharply, stiffening in his arms as he tried to pull away. "Idiot Makoto; I said I'm almost done."

"But Haruu," Makoto whined, his kisses growing more insistent. "I'm… _hungry._ "

Haru abruptly turned in Makoto's embrace, putting a hand to his roving lips. "Makoto, stop. You promised," he said. At Makoto's pleading look, Haru softened, unable to keep from relenting slightly. "…At least wait just a little bit longer, okay? The food will get cold."

Makoto suddenly slipped one of Haru's fingers into his mouth, tracing along the edge of it with his tongue. A gasp fell unbidden from Haru's lips, the sensation and heat shooting straight to his groin.

Still, he persisted, pulling his hand away from Makoto's mouth with great effort. "M—"

"Haru," Makoto said in a serious tone, taking Haru's hand into both of his and holding it tightly as he placed meaningful kisses to each of Haru's knuckles. "You have no idea what you do to me, looking like this…"

"I think I have a fairly good idea," Haru couldn't help but reply, a wry grin touching his lips. This was not the first time Makoto had jumped him while he was cooking, and he was sure it wouldn't be the last. However, Makoto had promised he'd at least _try_ to stop doing this—

"I'm sorry Haru, I can't stop myself today," Makoto said in a heated rush. Haru started to protest to the contrary but Makoto stopped him with a hot kiss, pressing him urgently back against the counter.

Realizing quickly that he was going to lose this one, Haru used the last of his wits to reach behind him and turn off the stove before he finally gave in, wrapping both arms around Makoto's neck. _Stupid Makoto. You'll pay for this later._

Makoto smiled against Haru's lips and pressed even closer to Haru, grinding himself into his stomach. Haru groaned, twining his fingers into the hair at Makoto's nape as he widened his stance to accommodate Makoto's heat. Makoto managed to slip a hand between them, sliding underneath Haru's apron to hook the edge of his swimsuit with thumb and forefinger.

"Off please," he said in a low voice, biting Haru's lip. Haru struggled to help push the offending garment to his knees, and Makoto pulled away just enough to bring it down the rest of the way. Satisfied, he took Haru by the waist and hefted him up to sit on the countertop. Condiments and spices scattered to the side as Haru gasped in surprise, anticipation washing over him in waves. Makoto gently guided Haru backwards so he leaned back on his hands, and he let go to flip Haru's apron up to his waist, baring his erection to his gaze.

"Oh Haru," Makoto said, pausing for a moment to take in the sight before him. "You look good enough to eat…may I have a taste?"

Haru blushed deeply as he stared into Makoto's smoldering gaze; he did look like he was ravenous, that he was ready to devour _him_ whole. He nodded his assent anyways, feeling his own passion burning hotter. Makoto leaned down, taking the head of Haru's erection between his lips without further ado. Haru moaned as Makoto teased him with his tongue, gradually moving his head down his length. One of Makoto's hands slipped under the apron, sliding up Haru's chest to tweak a nipple. Haru shuddered, biting his lip as he tried to hold on to reason just a little. Still, he couldn't prevent his hips from rising slightly, inviting Makoto to do _more_ , wanting him to tease him further. Makoto's free hand slipped between Haru's legs, lightly fingering at his entrance. Haru moaned again, encouraging as he tried to open his legs wider without slipping off the counter.

Struck by an idea, Makoto gave one last lingering suck to Haru's cock before he pulled away, leaving him breathless and wanting. His hands moved to Haru's back, supporting him as he directed Haru backwards until his back was against the wall. Makoto then lifted Haru's legs up onto the counter as well, pressing them closely to Haru's chest so his arousal and entrance were readily available to him.

"Is this alright?" Makoto asked, wanting to make sure that Haru was comfortable. He'd taken him in the kitchen countless times, but never quite like _this._

Haru nodded, slipping one of his hands under his knee and up his thigh to hold it there, so that he and Makoto could each have a free hand. He used said hand to reach for whatever he could of Makoto, settling for his shoulder as he tugged him close and kissed him wantonly, urgently.

Makoto got the message and slipped one, then two fingers inside Haru, trying to at least prepare him a _little bit_ before he lost control.

"Makoto, _please,_ " Haru said, far past any kind of embarrassment as he pleaded openly for Makoto to fill him, to make them one.

Well, Makoto had tried to do the right thing. And it seemed like Haru didn't care anymore either; his hand slid down Makoto's arm, tugging at his waist.

Again, Makoto got the message: _Now._

Makoto let out a groan of pure want as he removed his hand and lined himself up with Haru's entrance. The two cried out in unison as Makoto slid forward, seeking Haru's warm heat. He bottomed out, and his burning eyes met Haru's.

"Haru…" Makoto managed to get out. He hoped it had sounded like a question, because if Makoto didn't move soon he might _die_ —

" _Move,_ " Haru commanded, and Makoto wasted no time in setting a vigorous pace, pounding Haru into the wall again and again. Haru's hand gripped Makoto's hair, holding on tight as the two climbed higher and higher towards release.

Makoto's free hand came to Haru's other thigh, pushing it back further to grant himself better access. Haru cried out, and Makoto hoped it was from pleasure as he sped up; he could already feel the end coming closer and closer—

Haru took Makoto's face in both hands and slammed his lips to his, letting out a moan of ecstasy into Makoto's mouth as he came. He bit Makoto's lip, and Makoto felt himself begin to shudder as well, pinning Haru to the countertop wall as he found himself unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to _think_ of anything but Haru. Their combined essence spilled over Haru's chest and onto the countertop, but neither cared; they sought only each other as they came down from their high. Makoto let Haru's legs fall to the edge of the counter, and he pulled Haru close, wrapping him in his embrace.

"I love you," Makoto said in a low, passionate voice, suddenly overwhelmed by the love he had for this man—his best friend, his true other half.

"Idiot," Haru murmured in reply, but Makoto heard him whisper softly in his ear, "…I love you too." A silly grin split over Makoto's face, and Haru cleared his throat. "Now let me down."

Makoto reluctantly pulled back, keeping his arms lightly around Haru in case he needed the support. Haru steadied himself and pulled away, turning around to assess the damage. He looked down at the countertop, dismayed at the state of the kitchen. He looked to their rapidly cooling food, and his mood darkened.

"Makoto…" Haru said in a warning tone, and Makoto winced.

"Haru, I'm—" he started in apology, but Haru held up a hand as he turned to look at him, stopping his words.

"You're going to make every meal for two weeks."

Makoto made a face. " _Every_ meal Haru? Are you sure you want that? I can cook now sure, but I might run out of ideas—"

"It's either that, or no sex for two weeks."

"I'll do my best!" Makoto exclaimed with enthusiasm, flashing him a brilliant smile.

Haru rolled his eyes. This was probably going to be more of a punishment for _him_ , but he had to do _something._

After all, if Makoto ever found out just how _much_ Haru liked it every time Makoto lost control of himself in the kitchen, they'd never eat warm food again.

-((The End!))-

So as I said, this has a….not a sequel, a companion piece? Vaguely related story? Coming up next, so stay tuned! It just needs to be typed. And you know what gives me typing energy? Reviews! Please let me know what you thought!

Thanks for reading!

~freaky-hanyou


End file.
